Chapter Text
The footage springs to life onscreen, the air buzzing with the background noise coming through. The footage is slightly unclear and distorted in some places, likely due to cracks in the camera’s lens itself. Everything pictured is slightly bluer than you would expect.
A woman backs away from the camera and exposes the room around her. It is a laboratory with multiple examination tables distanced throughout it, with a variety of medical tools and devices scattered evenly about. One of the tables is occupied, though the view of the person is not clear.
The light is flickering steadily, the woman pays it no mind as if it is something entirely normal in the environment.
The woman grabs a clipboard from one of the tables, her lab coat is long enough to cover to her knees, and it being unbuttoned shows off her all black outfit with brown shoes. She has her brown and white hair in a bun behind her head, along with a headband to presumably keep bangs out of her face while she works.
She positions herself in the middle of the camera’s sight and adjusts her attire before she clears her throat and stares directly into the lens. Her red eyes stand out against the pallor surroundings of the laboratory and the large pale patches on her skin.
“This is Doctor Lami Trafalgar, day one of the third attempt at Project Frankenstein. The subject is known as Corazon, supplied and permitted to complete work on through a recent business partner; Joker.” She taps a pen on her clipboard as she pauses in her words, either thinking through what she previously stated or thinking through what she was preparing to say, then she continues with a blink of her eyes. “The time is twenty-two hundred, May fourth. I received this subject two days ago on the second of May.”
Another pause, this time she glances at the occupied operation table for a long moment. Trafalgar reaches out a hand and taps the edge of the table, her arm distorted by the cracks in the lens.
She sits like this for a while, seconds continue to tick by on the recording’s timer. It is unclear what exactly her expression is during this time, strands of her hair having fallen out of her bun and in the way of her face as she looks at her patient.
Eight more seconds pass before she looks back up at the camera, an eerie smile on her face. “Let us begin with the DNA infusement process, after sanitizing of course. We will refer to the subject as “013” and “it” from here forth, so as to organize the subjects clearly during formatting and removing them from their past humanity. It is a necessary step, do not forgo this step in future processes.” She waves a finger at the camera in a scolding manner, though the ghost of a smile never leaves her, she seems to be either amused or excited.
“To make a humane monster is not far from having kimchi with only vegetables and no seasoning. It’s no fun and extremely boring and bland on all accounts, it loses the purpose and the spice of creating the monster in the first place- to create what humanity seeks to destroy.”
She walks closer to the camera and out of frame, then the recording shakes and the room seems to shake and expand as the camera is moved closer to the operation table. “Why even call it a monster if it has humanity left…how pointless.” She mutters as the camera is adjusted on what is presumed to be a stand to hold it in place.
Now the person- or rather, subject 013- is very clearly visible in the frame aside from the thin cover over their body. What can be presumed to be blonde hair is visible at the head of the table, with antennae sticking upwards at strange angles. The torso is wide, and this becomes even more apparent when Trafalgar positions the camera overhead yet at a slight angle, to still view her face as she speaks.
Compared to the doctor, the subject is considerably larger. It seems to be several feet taller if the two were to stand side by side, but considering the angle of the camera and the distortion of the lens, there is no real definite answer to say.
Trafalgar pulls the cloth away from 013 in a showy fashion, showing the camera the state that it is in.
What becomes visible is a work of dried blood splattered and dragged all across the subject’s torso. It appears to originate from dozens of gunshot wounds, and the further down on 013’s body you look the more wounds are visible.
Beneath its body there are small and fragile seeming insect wings. One has a very visible piece hanging off of it, while the other is simply crumpled. Both have the blue color that is present throughout many other parts of the subject's body, most prominently its hands, feet, and face.
013’s digits are completely gone, with only blue shriveled stumps in their place. This is the state of all its fingers and its toes, not to mention its nose and ears when looking at its face, which were both missing from their places with dark blue splotches in their places.
Oh, and its face. The only colorful thing about 013 is the shapes below its right eye and around its mouth in what seems to have once been clown-like makeup. It has since faded, leaving behind dull blue and red smudges and shapes. The skin is sunken in, no meat on its bones and the outline of the eyeballs beneath its closed eyelids are all too apparent. That state of sunkenness and shrivel is present all over 013’s body. Its ribs are nearly piercing its pale skin, and the organs beneath the ribs in the stomach are visible in large lumplike forms.
One thing is incredibly clear, which Trafalgar admits audibly to the recording.
“013, is dead.” Her voice is flat in tone, and she equips herself with blue latex gloves as she continues. “This is on purpose, the time between retrieval of the subject and the project's beginnings was necessary to ensure that it dies for the best results to be possible. With a living subject, there is a possibility of the monitors alerting me when it dies, which would break the flow of the whole routine.”
Trafalgar twists off screen for a moment, before returning with a silver tool in her hand. A scalpel, which she sets on the table beside 013 and turns off screen once more to retrieve a bucket of liquid and a cloth.
“It would also defeat the purpose of this entire project if the subject were to be alive, and an autopsy of the exact insecta complex is necessary. Blood’s DNA can give an occasionally accurate speculation, but truly having pieces of the inner workings of the subject will provide much better results, especially being able to view the inner workings of their body and how it was affected by the Jungle Juice formula when it entered their biological structure.”
As she speaks, Trafalgar wipes down 013 roughly with the soaked cloth, she pauses every so often around the gunshot wounds to ensure the flesh is not distorted by the cloth.
“Right now I am wiping down the subject with a disinfectant to clear the body of any dirt or dried bodily fluids. I will need to conduct a blood transfusion later on in the attempt, considering how much blood 013 has lost before its death.” Trafalgar continues to clean the subject in silence after she finishes speaking.
A man’s voice is heard in the distance, echoey but muffled by the walls and the quality of the camera, Trafalgar looks up from her work to what could be assumed is the door to the lab. A loud bang is heard, and Trafalgar shouts as she moves out of view. “I told you not to-?!?” She is cut off.
The recording bluescreens.